


Like We Used to Do

by momothesweet



Series: We Don't Talk Anymore [4]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Coffee Shops, Food Critic Oikawa, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru Angst, M/M, Post-Break Up, Reminiscing, Universe Alteration, photographer Iwaizumi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-19 08:49:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10636449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/momothesweet/pseuds/momothesweet
Summary: Iwaizumi goes to a coffee shop. He doesn't like it, either.We Don't Love Anymore, but told in Iwaizumi's POV.





	

**Author's Note:**

> AND WE'VE COME FULL CIRCLE, EVERYONE
> 
> Very special thanks to Grayce for putting up with all the pain I've sent to her lol. 
> 
> It's best to read [Oikawa's POV](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10403766) first before reading this, as it refers to some of the elements mentioned here.
> 
> Enjoy!

Iwaizumi would have to be blind to not notice Oikawa in this coffee shop.

It’s new, people are talking about it, people are coming over. Of course Oikawa would take the opportunity to write a review and start ripping the place on its decor that’s not up to his standards. Iwaizumi wonders if the coffee is any good here. If it isn’t, Oikawa’s going to write some colorful way of simply saying that it tastes bad. He won’t call it garbage because that’s too cliche and nobody would trust an extreme opinion like that. No, Oikawa will paint this place beige and call its coffee boring and uncharacteristic. A blank canvas that doesn’t deserve a place in the competitive coffee business. That will sting more and Iwaizumi knows it.

He knows it all too well.

It wasn’t Iwaizumi’s choice to be here, though. The girl he’s meeting suggested it for similar reasons Oikawa would visit.

Speaking of whom, she should be here in another five minutes or so. It’ll take a little while to prepare the drinks since it’s quite busy, so Iwaizumi orders a drink for himself and another drink ahead of time for her—one she’s mentioned that she loves when she comes to coffee shops.

People have told him at work that he needs to move on. It’s been six months since his breakup, which _should_ be more than enough time to move on. He could have started traveling again, take photos of some lesser-known landmarks around Japan and some of the shop fronts of small businesses with kind owners. Hell, he could have gotten portraits of those chefs who work with poisonous fish because there would be no way in hell he could ever be convinced to eat something that could kill him. Maybe Oikawa would have the balls to do so, but not him.

Unfortunately (or not, depending on how he looks at it), he didn’t do any of those things in the six months since his breakup. Sure, he’s moved out and found an apartment with a great view of the city. He’s also joined a studio with some other ambitious photographers working for some notable figures throughout the country. Still, something feels...misplaced.

Cheesy as it is to think about, it bugs Iwaizumi from time to time. He could be at work editing photos and suddenly think Oikawa should be showing up right now to share of his coffee. He could be at home and then wonder at three in the morning why his bed feels so cold on the side of the bed further away from the window. Oikawa should be out of his head now. They’ve already agreed that this wasn’t going to work, even after all those years of being “with” each other in some form or the other. Why is this still a thorn on his side?

To distract him from thinking too much, he pulls out his camera from his bag and takes some pictures of his coffee, a simple dark roast with one cube of sugar, served in a blue cup and matching saucer. Oikawa would think that the blue is too pastel (or some other thing that describes it as “too light”) for a coffee shop that isn’t so cutesy or youthful. In the seat he’s sitting in, it’s difficult to capture the cup in good light, but that doesn’t matter much when he hears his name and he turns around.

“Hajime.”

Iwaizumi has told her once before that he’d prefer to be called by surname. He’s also told her once before that she doesn’t need to hug him every time they meet. But here she is, calling him Hajime and holding out her arms, ready for a hug. Despite that, he can’t help but notice how dolled up she looks for their meeting. Is she dressed for a date later on? Another meeting with someone else? Or, of all things, is she trying to impress _him_?

“I’m sorry, were you waiting long?”

He shakes his head and puts down his camera, scooting out of his chair to give her a hug. She pulls him in a little tighter than a normal acquaintance hug, her hands lower than he’d like.

Oikawa must be having a field day watching this from his corner seat.

At least the hug doesn’t last very long. Upon letting go, they take their seats across from each other. A barista appears right on time to give her the drink Iwaizumi ordered earlier—a fancy latte with some whipped cream swirled on top, which is deflating quickly because of how hot the drink looks, judging by the steam coming off of it. Her thanks sends Iwaizumi’s brain into a frenzy because it leads him to smile like he hasn’t smiled in a long time.

Why is he smiling at her for saying thanks? She’s doing the polite thing. It’s not something to gush about. If anything, he can _maybe_ attribute his smile to the fact that she _sort of_ shares that charm Oikawa has...

That train of thought is set aside for several reasons. The first one is that the girl begins speaking about updates on the project he’s been hired to work on, a campaign for a new fashion line to be released next season. The second being that Oikawa whisks right past him and storms out of the coffee shop, leaving a coffee cup and a barely-eaten croissant at the table. The faintest scent of his laundry soap and sugar whisks by his nose.

Oikawa must not have liked this place. At all.

While the girl continues on with what’s happening and Iwaizumi answers her questions, he picks up his coffee and takes a sip. Even after waiting a few minutes, it’s still scalding. And even for Iwaizumi’s taste, the coffee is medicinally bitter and has the worst aftertaste he’s ever experienced. He and Oikawa have visited unsavory places, but though the cafe looks decent on the surface, there would absolutely be no way he’d want to come here again if their plainest choice of coffee is difficult to stomach.

The girl takes a sip of her drink and Iwaizumi can’t help but ask, “How’s your coffee?”

As if she’s trying to talk away the pain that comes with sipping a drink that’s still hot, she answers, “It’s wonderful! I really like it here.”

Yikes.

Their meeting ends after another half hour or so of plans and ideas for the photoshoots, plus the models he’ll be photographing. He nearly snorts thumbing through the headshots; Oikawa, though not a professional model, could always point out how stuffy a person looks just by glancing at their face. Oikawa’s always been good at those kinds of weird details.

This is bad.

They were supposed to be over and done with. Oikawa isn’t his, anymore. Iwaizumi stupidly thought that leaving the cafe would help take his mind off of him, but it does the complete opposite. As he walks down the plaza, more and more of the most random elements pop up to force him to think of Oikawa. A pair of old volleyball sneakers in Oikawa’s size for sale. An ad stapled on a lamp post of a bakery specializing in milk bread and other simple baked goods. A child, for god’s sake, loudly whining at another child to give back his action figure.

Looking back, maybe it _was_ all his fault. All those years of being by his side and making sure he isn’t overdoing it or overworking himself. Supporting all of the work he does, no matter how many people attempt to shoot him down. Was it all too much? Did it finally reach that threshold and after that point, they could no longer stand each other?

It can’t be. If Iwaizumi was able to love him for so long, through all the things they’ve been through, it couldn’t have just...stopped. Just like that.

Six months to think about this. Still no answer, even when he’s suddenly reminded like this. His client just _had_ to pick that spot.

Iwaizumi holds onto his bag tightly and sprints to the train, ready to get back to his desk and edit some photos he’d taken a few days earlier so he doesn’t have to be in this gross-feeling mindset. The buildings passing by quickly start off as a good distraction. Popping his headphones in and turning up a commercial-free radio station he’s partial to when traveling. The ride should be smooth sailing from here.

Then a song comes on that rudely throws him back to the days when he and Oikawa would sneak to the gym on off-days. Iwaizumi times Oikawa when he serves, times the two of them when they set and spike together. When they finish, Oikawa would beg Iwaizumi if they could go five more minutes, even though the net has already been taken down and they already wiped the floors. Cries of his nickname and clinging to his shirt somehow tends to lead to kisses in the storage room, nervous laughter, and clumsy touching.

Sometimes, they’d bring speakers to the gym and listen to the music while they cleaned up. It usually takes more time when there are only two people doing the work.

The song that rings right now in Iwaizumi’s ears is upbeat. Kind of an annoying old pop song from when they were in high school and all the girls loved to sing to it. Iwaizumi was never a fan of it, but somehow, Oikawa was able to make him cross the gym floor, a right foot and a left foot becoming two left feet when he holds Oikawa’s hands and tries to guide him in rhythms that will probably never make any sense to him.

He doesn’t skip the song. Instead, he lets it play while he battles with his own brain as to whether or not he should text Oikawa. Everyone, all of their friends and family and coworkers old and new, told him to delete his number. But how the hell can he ever do that? It’s different if he were only with him for a few months. He and Oikawa had been together for _years_. They’ve practically known each other their whole lives. He can’t just erase him like that.

That’s probably true in all other aspects besides his phone.

His brain loses and Iwaizumi’s staring at the last few messages between him and Oikawa. Nothing but bitterness and ultra-short responses to when things will be picked up from the old apartment. No emojis or exclamation points or long declarations of love. Just questions about clothes and kitchen supplies.

Iwaizumi starts out with a “hey” and stares at that for much too long, long after the song ends. He then erases that and contemplates sending “I miss you” to him. Another long pause, then more tapping the backspace button. He thinks he might have nailed it by simply writing “Tooru.” Yeah. That should catch his attention.

But before he can consider sending it, the train comes to a stop and announces Iwaizumi’s destination.

With one long sigh, Iwaizumi looks at his phone and the potential message.

Before he steps out and heads back to work, he deletes that message and shoves his phone in his pocket, music turned off and his ears tuned into nothing but the noise of the people around him at the train station.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to everyone for reading and commenting and telling me how much chest pain I've given you all, haha. I did my job right if you felt some type of way!
> 
> Feel free to check out some of my other work—it's primarily...smut and reader insert lmfao BUT exploring angst was a lot of fun to do. 
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you for reading! Comments, kudos, feedback and quality coffee are greatly appreciated! <3
> 
> [Tumblr ](http://shoujomomo.tumblr.com) | [ Twitter](http://twitter.com/iwaizumiii)


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